Selfish
by Matril
Summary: Lizzie Bennet Diaries. According to George Wickham, none of this is his fault. He's been lying for so long, he starts to believe it himself. A highly unreliable, loathsome narrator.
1. A Sacred Privilege

Their friendship had started going sour a long time ago, but George could pinpoint the exact moment when it officially ended. It was when Darcy called him selfish.

_Selfish_. Seriously? How could he possibly think that? George had grown up alongside people who had _everything_ while he had next to _nothing_. And he never complained, not during all the afternoons he spent playing with Darcy in his family's gigantic mansion, not when Darcy asked what was the name of the Wickhams' maid and George had to stutter that they didn't have one, not when Darcy casually forked over some three-figure number for a pair of pants and George was stuck with the knock-off label. Not a word of complaint. He just quietly absorbed the fact that the world was unfair, and some people were born into it with a fortune in their pockets and some people weren't.

Darcy talked about stuff like honor and discipline and doing his duty, but those ideas only made sense in a world that was fair, a world that rewarded hard work and people who followed the rules. That wasn't the world they were living in. This was a world where you had to take what you could get whenever you had the chance.

One time, when they were nine or ten, Darcy caught George shoplifting. You'd think it was murder from the way he reacted. "What are you doing?" he hissed, snatching the candy bar and putting it back on the shelf. "You haven't paid for that!"

"It's half a buck," George said, rolling his eyes. "Lighten up, will you?"

"It doesn't matter how much or how little it costs," Darcy said, puffing out his chest pompously. "It's the principle of the thing."

Nice, if you could afford principles.

George was a little more careful about what he did around Darcy after that self-righteous overreaction. He knew, or at least he was pretty sure, that Darcy wouldn't stoop to telling on him, but his disappointing glare was a real buzzkill.

They were still friends. Of course they were. They had a history, lots of inside jokes and shared memories. He was practically a second brother to Darcy's kid sister Gigi. He knew how to make Darcy loosen up – or what passed for loosening up for him, anyway. He didn't laugh at Darcy in middle school when he tried to ask out the girl he liked but lost his nerve, muttering something unintelligible before slinking away. George just grinned and said, "Aw, she wasn't worth it. You can do better than her, old Moneybags."

By the time high school was wrapping up, though, George had had about all he could take of Darcy's prissy honor and duty. The guy had actually mapped out his college schedule for the entire four years. No room for having fun or anything. When George showed no interest in doing the same obsessive planning, Darcy did it for him, including three different scenarios in case he changed his mind about being a lawyer and decided to go for an MBA or med school. George accepted the course schedules with a smirk, then chucked them as soon as Darcy left.

If Darcy wanted, he could easily take off a year, maybe two or three, before diving into college. He could travel the globe, backpack across Europe, go kayaking in Alaska. With his wads of cash he could do whatever he wanted, probably get whatever girls he wanted too, have the whole world at his fingertips. But all he wanted to do was perform his boring old duty and start running his dad's company as soon as he possibly could. What a waste.

George wasn't about to waste his own life like that. He was going to make the most of this, his first taste of real freedom. All those years of flaunting their wealth at the Wickhams must have made the Darcys feel just guilty enough to set up a little fund for George, enough for a bare bones college education. It took some doing for Darcy to hand the money over to George – he wanted to pay all of George's expenses himself, like he was a dumb little kid – but finally, after George swearing up and down that he would use it responsibly, the fund was all his.

That first year was amazing. George could actually buy whatever he wanted without worrying whether he could afford it; he could order as many drinks as he wanted and go out drinking every night if he felt like it. Fake IDs were easy to get when you could shell out the money for them. He could buy all his friends drinks too.

And he had a lot of friends. He had always made friends easily, but it was even better when he wasn't dragging around a dead weight like Darcy. He had a crowd of buddies wherever he went, and plenty of girls who came for his smile and swimmer's physique and stayed for his tragic tale of being poor and misunderstood by the rich family that should have taken care of him. Girls loved tragedies almost as much as they loved rich guys. He was also the only freshman to make the swim team, and he had a lot of cheering fans at every swim meet. He didn't attend his classes half the time, but that year at college was very educational.

Then came the day toward the end of the school year when he got a notice in the mail. His bank account had been overdrawn. Well, that sucked. Apparently everything was just a little more expensive than he thought it was. He suspected he might run out of money before four years were up, but this was…sooner than he hoped. He hadn't talked to Darcy in months. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation.

He called him the next day, keeping his voice nice and casual. "Hey, Darce, how's it going?"

"Well enough." Man, he'd gotten even stiffer and stuffier, if that were possible. "How are your studies?"

"Great, great." He had finals coming up, but a few weeks ago he'd bought all the cheat codes from someone with the right connections. "How about yours?"

"Fine. So far I've managed to keep to my schedule."

"Yeah…about that. I've kind of hit a snag in my own schedule."

"What is that?"

"I might have trouble paying tuition next semester."

"Why?" Darcy's tone was already growing harder. This was going to take a lot of charm.

"Darce, you would not believe how much everything costs here! I've been careful, but my funds just keep getting lower and lower."

"How much do you need?" He sure got right to the point.

"Well, sort of – all of it."

"You've already spent all of the money intended for next year's tuition?" Beneath Darcy's monotone, George could hear the usual judgmental self-righteousness.

He sighed. "Yeah."

"And how much do you have remaining in your savings?"

Savings? Oh boy. "Uh, none."

There was a long, horrible silence. When Darcy finally spoke it was clipped, controlled. A little dangerous. "Do you mean to say that you have spent four years worth of college tuition in a single year?"

"Come on, man! It's more than just tuition. Room and board, you know. Unless you want to live in a hole and eat nothing but cereal, it gets pretty pricey."

"Those funds were intended strictly for tuition. Did you ever consider getting a job?"

"A _job_? Are you kidding me? Classes are already a full-time job. And how is that fair? I bet _you_ don't have to work to make ends meet."

"I've been long-distance interning at Pemberley."

Of course he was. The guy was practically inhuman. "Like that counts." He went on bitterly, "You think anyone else around here has a job? No, when they have money troubles, they just call their parents to come and bail them out."

"So in lieu of that, you're calling me."

"Yeah, I am," George snapped, "because you're the closest thing I've got to family now. You know that. You're not the only orphan here, man."

"Yes. I know that." Now Darcy was quiet. Maybe he'd give in after all. "You were like a second son to my parents. They wanted you to have a good education and a chance to improve your situation. And you –" Uh-oh. George didn't like the sound of that catch in his voice. "You have squandered the money you were entrusted with."

"Darce –"

"Did their generosity mean nothing to you? Instead of honoring their memory and behaving responsibly, you've trampled their gift beneath your feet."

"Hey, now wait a minute –"

"And now – now, you have the gall to ask for _more_? To demand it, as if it's your right, your entitlement, instead of a sacred privilege? I knew you were incapable of taking anything seriously, but I had no idea just how thoughtless you could be. How utterly _selfish_."

"Like hell." George could feel his face twisting up in fury. "You're so full of crap, Darcy. You're the one sitting on a mountain of money, and you call _me_ selfish? Where do you get off? My family had to scratch out a living since before I was born, and you got everything handed to you. You have no idea what that feels like."

"This has nothing to do with your family's class or financial situation. This is about your complete lack of respect and appreciation regarding the gift that was given to you."

"So I made a few mistakes handling my money. Is that a mortal sin? Just like that, you decide I'm not worthy of a single penny more?"

"I know you, George," Darcy said icily. "I can easily imagine what you spent your money on."

"_Seriously_? You judge me before you even give me a chance to prove myself. But why should that surprise me?" he went on in rising resentment. "You've always thought I was less worthy than you. You know what, Darcy? You're a pompous ass, and you always have been. You were born with your nose stuck in the air."

"You had a chance to prove yourself," Darcy said, unsurprisingly ignoring the insults. He was gutless that way. "You had an entire year. You failed."

"You know what this means, right? I won't be able to finish college. No, forget that. I'm broke. I can't even pay next month's rent. You think your parents would want me living on the street?"

"Don't you dare bring them up again. You have no right." Darcy cleared this throat. "I take no pleasure in the thought of you being without a place to live or any sort of income. But there are plenty of people in the world who manage to get by without assistance from others."

"Sure. People who learn to scam the system."

"There are honest people too."

"Right. Keep living in your dream-world, Darcy. I'm sure you're very happy there."

"Get a job, George. It won't kill you."

"Oh, yeah. No problem, I'll start applying for stuff tomorrow. You got any openings for a college dropout at Pemberley?"

"I'm sorry it's come to this. I was hoping college might teach you to grow up a little."

"I was hoping college might teach you how to have feelings," George spat back. "Hey, how many friends have you made in the last year? And how many of them did you have to pay to hang out with you? Are there any girls interested in being with you if they don't know you're loaded? You'd better face up to it, Darcy. I'm the only real friend you ever had. And now you have none."

A long pause, then, "Out of respect for our former friendship, I think it's best we end this conversation."

"Yeah, you'd like that, you spineless, cowardly son of a –"

Darcy had hung up.

George threw his phone down on the bed, scowled at it, then punched his pillow while imagining it was Darcy's face.

Selfish. Coming from Darcy's mouth. Talk about ironic.


	2. A Silver Lining

_Well, here we go. Each chapter is going to contain progressively more loathsomeness, so brace yourselves. _

George got a job at a coffee shop that summer. It wasn't awful. He got lots of tips and lots of girls scrawling their phone numbers on napkins. Money was still a major problem, though. In the middle of August his landlord kicked him out, and he was actually technically homeless for two full months. Luckily, one of the napkin girls noticed his downcast expression the day he got the notice, and after they'd had a long, intimate conversation, she offered her couch without him even having to hint at it. In turn he promised he'd be a perfect gentleman without _her_ having to bring it up. That way, when she saw him sleeping shirtless night after night and finally invited him into her bed, it would be her idea, not his. Worked like a charm every time.

By then he'd found his own place, a cramped space he would have to share with two other roommates. Awful, but he knew he needed a failsafe. Sure enough, a few days later she caught him texting another girl and kicked him out with less notice than his former landlord. He never thought it would last very long anyway. She was getting boring.

Roommates were a different kind of hassle. They were always bugging him about paying the bills or his share of the rent. He could bet that Darcy never had to deal with obnoxious roommates. Thoughts like that galled him every single day. He had to change apartments a lot; he couldn't count on anyone to cut him some slack. They were all a bunch of selfish jerks.

Things finally started looking up when he ran into an old teammate who asked why he wasn't swimming that semester. George didn't spill every detail about his financial troubles, but it was enough to get a useful bit of information – they were looking for part-time swim coaches at a nearby community college.

Well, it had to be better than shilling for coffee, right?

It was better, but he still never had enough money. Whenever he managed to make any extra, it was gone before he had any time to enjoy it. And every time his funds veered dangerously close to empty, he thought of Darcy sitting smugly in his freaking mansion, counting the tens of millions of dollars in his multiple bank accounts.

It was definitely kismet that he stumbled across the Darcy name in a student directory at the next college he was going to coach at. He looked at the listing in confusion for a minute. Georgiana Darcy. Was she a cousin or something? No, _Gigi_. Was that kid seriously in college now? Wow. He hadn't seen her in years, not since before her brother cut him off. Well, maybe there was still one Darcy left who wasn't dead or a hypocritical bastard. He'd have to make sure to run into her while he was on campus.

It wasn't until he saw her in person that he realized the opportunity in front of him. He had expected a taller version of the chubby-cheeked little girl who used to giggle and blush at his jokes. Nope. Darcy's sister was hot. Hot enough to catch the eyes of most of the other guys watching by. But he still made her blush, and her eyes were only for him.

Even without Darcy around, George could see she was still stuck in his shadow. She kept asking why she hadn't heard from him in so long, why her brother never mentioned him anymore. George finally sighed and said, "I didn't want to bring it up, but I guess I can't hide anything from you. We had a really bad fight."

"What about?" Gigi asked with wide eyes.

He shrugged like he was uncomfortable. "Money."

"_Oh_." She was quiet for a second, then said, "George, if you need any help –"

"No, no, don't you even think of it," he said. "I don't want to be, like a charity case, you know?" He wasn't interested in charity, not a one-time thing. He had long-term goals. If he played his cards just right, he could be set for life. Not to mention Gigi could really use someone in her life who treated her like a grown-up. It wouldn't surprise him if Darcy still had her under a freaking curfew.

"Are you all right, though?" she said, clutching the strap of her backpack.

"I get by okay. At least I get to do something I enjoy, even if the pay sucks."

"Wait, what do you do?"

"Swim coach."

Her face lit up. "That's great! You were always an amazing swimmer. I used to watch –" She blushed again. "I mean, when you and William raced in the pool. You always won."

"Yeah, I did." He didn't have to say the follow-up; she could see it in his face. _But he won in the end._

"You know…" She was staring at her feet, her entire face red now. "I kind of got into swimming because of you. You made it look so natural and, and easy."

"Wow. There's not really any higher praise to know you inspired someone." He made sure she was looking at him again before flashing her a grin. "I'm honored, Peach."

She gave him a shy smile. "I'm hoping to make the swim team this semester. I'm not sure I'll make it, though. I've kind of been focusing more on tennis lately."

So she'd really benefit from having a private coach. Perfect. He'd wait for her to put the pieces together. "Nah, you'll do great. I remember how well you swam even when you were a kid. You have natural talent. Just give it a little practice, and you'll blow everyone else away." He gave her a friendly, one-armed hug. "Hey, it was great seeing you. Maybe we'll run into each other again while I'm coaching here."

"Yeah…" She was clutching her backpack strap again, her knuckles whitening. He started walking off, then, "Wait!"

He turned.

"I know you don't want my charity," she said in a rush, "but what if I could give you a paycheck?"

"What do you mean?"

"Be my swim coach."

"Oh….I don't know." He frowned, hesitated. "I doubt your brother would approve."

"Well." She was suddenly fierce, full of fire and purpose. "William doesn't have to know. I can run my own life, can't I?"

"I'd never question that," he said with a warm smile. He rubbed his chin. "This is a very tempting proposition, Miss Darcy. I'll need to think on it, consider my other offers."

"Oh, come on, George. I can pay you twice what you'd get from the school. And you'll only have to deal with one student."

He raised his eyebrows. "But what if she's a difficult student?"

"I can't make any promises," she said archly. "Gifted swimmers are notorious for being difficult." Then she giggled.

"For real, though," he said, "I'd want to take this job seriously. If I'm getting that level of pay, I want to earn it. I'd expect you to be in the pool every day, working hard. No goofing off."

"Yes, sir." Gigi grinned. "So…do we have a deal?"

He waited a minute, then stuck out his hand. "Deal." They shook on it.

Gigi was the kind of girl who took a long time. He could wait; he had plenty of patience. As the months went by, she got more and more comfortable having him in the pool with her, letting him put his hands on her shoulders, then on her hips. She initiated the first kiss, and he pulled back, saying he was worried what her brother would think. She wavered for a second. It might have been a mistake to bring up Darcy. But no. She dove at him then, all her hesitation gone.

A week before tryouts, she asked him to stay when they were done with swimming practice. They had a private dinner in her condo, drank lots of wine, and finished off the evening in her bedroom. It was all her idea. He never even had to bring it up. She had the same idea practically every night for the rest of the week. Good things really did come to those who waited.

"George," she said dreamily the day she found out she had made the team, after they were finished celebrating.

"What is it, Peach?"

"Are you happy?"

He kissed her shoulder. "Never been happier." He let her see a little bit of a frown before smiling again.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"No, something's still bothering you. Tell me."

"Aw, it's no big deal. I just…hate leaving you every night. Going home alone. Knowing you're alone too."

"Well…" She was quiet, guarded. "What if you moved in with me?"

"Peach. You know I couldn't. This is your place. I can hardly afford to breathe the air."

"Well, if that's true, then I can't afford it any more than you." She took a deep breath. "This is all William's. It's all his money, his decisions. So…if I decide to share it with you, that's just kind of balancing the scales a little bit. Right?"

"I think…" He traced a line along her arm. "I think you're brilliant. And if you can stand a slob for a roommate, I can start moving in tomorrow."

George didn't have much of a plan beyond that point. He had pretty much everything he needed, and he didn't have to lift a finger for it. He had a girl who didn't demand anything of him, who appreciated his needs and shared his contempt for Darcy's controlling selfishness. They made a good pair. Officially he was still her personal coach, but earning his keep was usually a matter of spending hours in the hot tub with her.

He should have known it was too good to last. And maybe a part of him always knew that Darcy would come along and ruin it, like he ruined everything in his life. He suspected that Gigi knew it too. Why else would she have a whole speech prepared?

They weren't totally naked when Darcy burst in on them. George was shirtless, and she was getting ready to take his pants off, but she just had a few buttons undone on her blouse. She straightened with a gasp when the door shut with a horrible echoing bang. Her hand flew up to the buttons; her face went scarlet. George didn't have to guess who was standing on the other side of the couch.

"William." She was shaking as she got up. George stayed where he was.

"I wanted to surprise you." Darcy's voice was flat, emotionless. What kind of messed-up robot was he? He didn't even get angry like normal people. Slowly, George reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. He wasn't in a big hurry to face Darcy.

"I guess we both have some surprises," Gigi said with a nervous, frantic laugh.

Darcy didn't reply. George took a chance and got to his feet. And Darcy's face was about the scariest thing he'd ever seen. He didn't know it was possible to convey that much menace without a word, just a clenched jaw and flashing eyes. Yeah, George involuntarily took a step or two backwards. Okay, he even considered flat out running away. But then he swallowed, folded his arms across his chest and met Darcy's gaze. _Go ahead. You throw the first punch. Then I'll be the hero._

But Darcy didn't move. His hands were clenched at his sides, stiff as stone. He opened his mouth to speak. Then Gigi leapt in between them.

"William, you don't understand. You don't know George like I do. I know you had some kind of fight, some argument about money, but you've never given him a chance. He could have taken money from me when we first met here. I offered it to him. But he didn't want it. He wanted to help me." Her voice quavered. "He loves me. And I love him. We're so happy together. Can't you just be happy for us? Can't you understand how much this means to me?"

It was a nice try, but Darcy wasn't about to be moved. "This man," he said in a low, barely-controlled voice, "has not been honest with you. He has manipulated you."

"Thanks a lot, man," George said. Gigi cast him a desperate look. He shrugged. It was great while it lasted, but Darcy was kind of a major roadblock. She had to see that.

"I don't know what he has said or done to convince you that his feelings are genuine," Darcy went on, ignoring George, "but you cannot trust him. He is using you. He wants revenge on me. And he wants our money. That's all he wants."

"_No_, William! Listen to me –"

"Think, Gigi. If he were being honest, why would he persuade you to hide this from me?"

"He didn't," Gigi snapped. "_I_ didn't want to tell you. Because I'm sick of you telling me what to do. You _always_ have to be right. Well, you're wrong now."

Darcy shut his eyes, took a breath and looked at Gigi again. He looked more sad than angry now. Good. Let him hurt a little. He deserved it, after everything he'd done to George. "I wish I were wrong. I really wish I were. But he is using you. Do I need to prove it?"

Gigi folded her arms across her chest. "I'd like to see you try."

Darcy sighed and pulled something out of his suit jacket. A checkbook.

George's interest perked up. Maybe there was a silver lining in all of this after all.

Darcy finished writing the check, ripped it out of the book and showed it to George. It was a pretty tidy sum. Not quite as much as his lost college fund, but enough to cover his expenses for at least a year.

It didn't take too long for him to make his choice. He'd miss the fun times with Gigi, but she wouldn't be nearly as easy with Darcy hovering over her, and there were other girls without insanely vengeful older brothers. She wouldn't have much trouble finding another guy either, not with her looks and money. Sure, she'd huff and be angry for a bit, but it was pretty obvious this had run its course, and she'd see that soon enough if she didn't see it now. Might as well leave with something useful in his pocket.

He took the check and winked at Gigi. "Sorry, Peach."

For once, Darcy's selfish need to be right had worked in George's favor.


	3. Inaccessible

George got out of town fast; it didn't matter where. He had enough money to get by without a job for a while, but it was probably better to maintain his connections for that inevitable time when his funds ran dry again. Besides, swim week could be a lot of fun. So sometime around the beginning of June, he found himself in a small college town at a bar full of rowdy, drunk swimmers. He wasn't quite drunk himself yet, because he knew that keeping sober would give him a definite edge when it came to girls. Some of them were easy and liked drunken guys better, like that chick with bright red hair, surrounded by idiots and laughing like a hyena. But George didn't feel like getting someone easy. After Gigi, he was up for a challenge.

He found one in the form of another redhead who grimaced at the guys who tried to paw at her. Seeing his chance when she was about to sit in a puddle of beer, he swooped in with his chivalrous gentleman routine. She ate it right up. By the time she left to collect Hyena-laugh, who turned out to be her little sister, they had exchanged names, phone numbers, and a lot of flirty smiles.

But then she was a little too much of a challenge. Every time he texted her over the next few days, she said she was busy with finals. He wouldn't have expected someone who was so much fun at a bar to end up being such an inaccessible nerd. When he left town, he pretty much forgot about her.

Until one day, a few weeks later, when he found something very interesting in a Google search.

He was actually looking for mentions of Darcy, because it had suddenly occurred to him that when he told people what a lying jerk he was, they might look him up, find some glowing praise about Pemberley Digital from a biased source, and think George was the one doing the lying.

After the official website and a bunch of boring mentions in business journals, he saw one of the last things he would have expected. Lizzie Bennet's face. She was on Twitter, Youtube, a bunch of other places – but what did that have to do with Darcy?

The answer had him actually laughing out loud.

He skimmed through the boring parts of the videos, focusing on the good stuff. Lizzie knew Darcy, she hated his guts, and, to top it all off, she really liked George. She didn't seem to mind that he hadn't been in touch with her since he left. She wasn't some hyper-sensitive drama queen, and now that her finals were over, she'd probably be up for some fun. Not to mention lots of Darcy-bashing.

A bunch of videos from last month seemed to be happening somewhere other than her bedroom, which wasn't of any particular interest to George until he realized she was actually living under the same roof as Darcy. And – oh, no way. This was just too good. _Darcy was into her_. After knowing Darcy his entire life, he could recognize the signs where Lizzie couldn't. Staring at her all the time, looking for reasons to talk to her even if it was just to argue, creating some pathetic excuse to dance that went completely over her head – yeah, he had it bad.

Now she was back at home, still clueless about Darcy's little crush, hating him more than ever. Some other guy was showing up in her most recent videos, but nothing to worry about there. He was barging in uninvited, and Lizzie kept shoving him out again.

George was pretty sure he could get an eager invitation to that bedroom within the next few weeks.

He tested the waters by sending her a text. After a favorable response, he upped the flirt-factor. She seemed to like it. He didn't know how much until he got around to watching her next video, about a week after she posted it. Yeah, that bedroom invitation was looking more and more likely.

Then something changed, and she didn't text him for two full days. _Sorry,_ she finally replied when he casually questioned why. _Kind of distracted lately._ Was she losing interest? Maybe he missed his chance. He checked out her last few videos…and discovered, instead, that his chances had just gotten much better.

Lizzie's best friend had back-stabbed her, they got in a big fight, and now she was lonely and hurt. She needed a shoulder to cry on. Perfect opening for the guy with the charming shoulders.

He got into town just two days later and sent her a message. She took a little longer to reply than he expected, but she was plenty enthusiastic when she did, and invited him to join her right away at the bar.

She mentioned that her sisters would be coming along, but he'd forgotten that the older one was seeing Darcy's buddy. Another rich guy. Apparently Darcy had given up having fake friendships with poor people. The friend was out of town that night, but Darcy wasn't.

It was pretty intense.

On the one hand, seeing Darcy this jealous was awesome. Without saying a word George could convey all he needed to, just by greeting Lizzie with a familiar smile and facing Darcy. _All your money, yet you can't buy the one thing you want – the one thing I have._ He considered putting his arm around Lizzie's shoulders, but that was a little risky at this early stage. Besides, there was the other hand – Darcy was scary. It was fun and all to gloat about him from a safe distance, but George hadn't planned on actually running into him like this.

Luckily, Darcy backed down, coward that he was, and disappeared in a big hurry. George wondered if Lizzie had even noticed their silent exchange until she looked at him, more excited than he'd ever seen her before, and demanded to know what had just happened.

Better to keep her waiting a little while. Better if he seemed reluctant, and better to make her curiosity build up. Lizzie was, like Gigi, a girl who took time.

A week later, when she invited him to her room, he knew it was the right time.

Specifically, she told him about her videos and asked if he wanted to be a special guest. It was a little bit of a letdown, since the mention of her bedroom reminded him that after a week they hadn't got much farther than a few pecks on the cheek. But if the way to Lizzie was through her videos, he could run with that. He didn't give away that he already knew about them until they were on camera. Her embarrassment was really cute. He enjoyed that for a bit before subtly segueing to Darcy.

It was perfect. Lizzie was so eager to dig up dirt on him, she made George look reluctant. It was like it was all her idea and she was just dragging him along. She didn't doubt a single detail of his story, even though he left out a few elements like where exactly it fell in the timeline. It didn't matter. She knew Darcy was a selfish jackass, and now she had further proof.

They were getting pretty cozy by the end before Lizzie's little sister ruined the mood and his favorite shirt. He was never one to turn down female attention, though, and Lydia was a very appreciative audience. Even better, Lizzie came back and was so mesmerized by his abs she forgot to be mad at her sister.

Things were progressing fairly well. A few days later, she let him hang out in her bedroom with the door almost closed. She let him in her video again, and she wanted to bring him along to the big birthday bash.

Of course he had no intention of actually showing up at a party on Darcy's home turf. He wasn't quite that stupid. It was one thing to run into each other at a bar, but walking straight up to Darcy's door – his friend's door, whatever – was just asking to get his nose broken. The fact that she had invited him, though; that was progress.

Maybe not quite as fast as he'd like. While she was doing the question and answer thing on her video, he tried to get even a tiny acknowledgement that she was in a relationship with him. She wouldn't budge, and he didn't push it. But if she wasn't going to be putting out for a while, he might need to find an alternative. A guy had needs, after all.

The night that Lizzie was at the party, he found a willing and eager girl at a bar – not the one Lizzie usually went to; that would be a little too risky. It was fine for a night, still not nearly as satisfying as a real conquest.

He started getting some strange tweets a few days later, lots of girls he'd never met asking why he stood Lizzie up and why he hadn't called. He checked out Lizzie's twitter and discovered she'd just posted a new video. Boy, she had some rabid fans.

Huh. Lydia seemed more bothered than Lizzie that he hadn't called. Though with a bit of prodding, Lizzie started getting bothered too. Maybe he'd underestimated yet another little sister.

Well, this shouldn't be too much trouble. He gave her a story about a friend in the ER and a stolen phone, which she accepted without question. She was satisfied. He, on the other hand, was getting restless. How much longer was this going to take? They'd had a few kind-of dates, flirted a bunch through texting and Twitter…and never even gotten to first base. When it came to trashing Darcy, no one was a better partner than Lizzie, but beyond that, what did she have going for her? Half the time she wanted to talk about books or mass media or something. This might not be worth pursuing.

When he realized that Darcy had left Lizzie's town for good, that clinched it. Time to get out of here and find some more promising opportunities. As it happened, he'd gotten a pretty good coaching offer, and now he could take it without worrying he was leaving something in-progress. Of course he'd still give Lizzie a decent good-bye – no reason to shut that door completely. If she waited for him, great. If not, there were other girls who appreciated charming shoulders – including some who'd been tweeting at him eagerly ever since his first appearance in Lizzie's videos.


	4. Broken

_Okay. This was the hardest chapter to write - and the other ones weren't exactly easy. It's pretty nasty trying to get into the mind of someone who would do what Wickham did to Lydia. But here we go._

He had a blast with his new coaching job. This town had tons of girls who'd much rather admire his abs than talk about books. He found one who was really into some kind of feminist thing and insisted on paying for their dates half the time. He said he respected her commitment to her ideals. Privately, he respected her massive line of credit.

Lizzie texted him once about going off to do some internship or something, but her interest had clearly faded. No regrets. They'd both moved on.

Life was pretty easy for a few months, until he had a casual look at his bank account. Almost empty _again_? That couldn't be right. It hadn't even been a year since Darcy handed him that check, and he'd been working on top of that. But the numbers didn't lie. If he didn't find some other significant source of income soon, he'd be back on the street – or at least some girl's sofa.

Feminist girl had left town, so that wasn't an option. Trying to get any more money out of the Darcys was too risky, even if it was his rightful inheritance. Lizzie wasn't really into him anymore and broke on top of that – but wait. He remembered having to sit through a lot of dumb ads when he was watching her videos. Ads meant money, and some of that money had to be getting to her, didn't it?

So when Thanksgiving rolled around, he headed back to Lizzie's town and sent her a text. She didn't reply, and again he didn't push it. He could tell when to be aggressive and when to wait. This was another time to wait.

It was a long wait. He sent another text, then another – suggesting he might leave soon, and wouldn't it be a shame if they never ran into each other? Still nothing. He waited till mid-December, when, as luck would have it, they happened to meet at the grocery store. He hadn't even planned it.

But it didn't go like he thought it would.

Lizzie didn't even want him to touch her, squirming away when he went for a friendly hug. She didn't return his smile; she wasn't at all impressed that he managed to remember the intern thing.

And speaking of the intern thing. Uh-oh. She'd seen Darcy again? Was that creep following her around everywhere she went? George couldn't help but notice that she didn't say Darcy's name the way she used to, with gritted teeth and bristling hatred. She reserved that tone, instead, for George. She actually banned him from coming to her sister's party. He could have sneaked in, but what was the point? This bridge had been burned. And he had a pretty good idea who had done the burning.

Darcy had gotten to her. Somehow, in spite of her complete contempt for him, he had managed to pull her over to his side and turn her against George. Darcy couldn't be happy just taking away George's money. He had to take away every person, everything that mattered to him.

Raging, George went home and pulled out his phone – which might lose service in another few months if he couldn't pay the bill, another reminder of what Darcy had done to him. Since Lizzie refused to let him catch up in person, he'd have to catch up with her videos instead.

There was a lot of boring crap with the Asian chick and the idiot in the suit who kept barging into the room. It took forever to finally get to the parts about Darcy, and then it didn't explain anything. Lizzie still hated him; in fact, at one point she was ready to strangle him to death. Then Darcy actually came into her video.

This still didn't explain anything, but _man_, was it satisfying to see Darcy get taken down. Lizzie didn't hold back anything after his stiff, arrogant _I'm in love with you_. Darcy looked like he'd been hit by a freight train. George actually laughed out loud when she told him to watch her videos. Served him right, having to watch Lizzie mock him for hours and hours, not to mention getting cozy and flirty with George.

But when she had mentioned George, she was still defending him. What changed after that? He watched the next one, learned about the letter, but still couldn't find any mention of him at all until Lydia said he was in town in the video after Thanksgiving. Was Lizzie really going to keep her mouth shut about that letter? Nothing had kept her mouth shut before. Darcy had probably made some kind of threat about what he'd do if she spilled anything. Otherwise she'd be blabbing all over the place.

After seeing the video called "Leftovers," he dropped his phone, got up and punched the wall.

His fingers stung, but seeing the dent he'd made was worth it. He needed to see something break right now. That bastard. That lying bastard. So full of himself and his money and his _sacred privileges_. Now Lizzie thought George was the liar, and she was spreading it all around the Internet. Darcy's little toady, doing his dirty work. No wonder George had been getting more than the usual hate messages tweeted at him. They all believed her, all of her stupid fans. Lizzie didn't care how much it would hurt him. She was just as selfish as Darcy.

He kept watching her videos; he didn't know why. It was kind of satisfying to see that she was just as judgmental and bossy as he thought she was, pushing her little sister around and making her feel like crap. He knew how Lydia felt, everyone dismissing her just because she wasn't a perfect model of good behavior and responsibility.

Maybe he'd been going after the wrong Bennet sister all along.

He figured he'd go to Vegas for New Year's and hope something happened. If not, it still wouldn't be a waste of a trip, not with all those bars and casinos and girls at his fingertips. If he did run into Lydia, so much the better.

He ran into her, all right. She wasn't doing great. He'd seen her drunk before, but she wasn't having fun this time. She was alone, angry. He ended up coming to her rescue when she was about to get kicked out of a bar, and she repaid him with a sloppy drunken makeout. He stopped her before things got any farther. He didn't want drunk Lydia. There were lots of nameless drunk girls he could hook up with. He wanted Lydia sober and broken. Like him. Drunk Lydia liked his abs. Sober Lydia could like _him_, screwed over by Darcy and Lizzie just like her.

Besides, girls liked guys who pretended they didn't want sex right away.

She called him about a week later. During that time he'd watched her videos, learned who she really was. He returned the favor by telling what really happened with his college money, all the details Darcy had left out because he didn't think they mattered. Lydia understood. She _got_ him like no one else did. If she had tons of money to throw around like Gigi did, she would have helped him. She didn't, though. She didn't even have the ad revenue that Lizzie's videos did, and Lizzie was hardly the biggest star on YouTube.

The biggest girls on the Internet weren't the ones who blabbered on and on about their boring lives. They were the ones who knew what the guys wanted and weren't afraid to do it. Show off their best assets and all that. He'd seen the guys commenting on Lydia's videos, telling her to take her shirt off. There were more of them than on Lizzie's channel. No surprise. Lydia was the sexy sister.

Thing was, she might not be in a big hurry to go there. In her quiet moments she was actually shy, a long way from the girl who ruined his clothes just to get a look at him shirtless. She needed a lot of coaxing even to admit she wanted to kiss him, but he got her to come around eventually. It helped that she wanted to spite Lizzie just as much as he did.

She was also lonely, and he was good at keeping her company. Better than all the other losers she used to go around with. He could tell he was really starting to like her because he felt possessive, protective. She was his, and she knew it – even if it took a little bribery to get her to say it out loud. It helped to have the camera on. She was always a little more willing when she was being filmed. It shouldn't take much longer for her to loosen up enough to take it all off on camera.

But Lizzie was a definite roadblock. Lydia kept hesitating out of some misplaced sense of guilt. Like Lizzie deserved a single thought. Okay, he'd give her a thought. He'd show her what happened when you treated people like dirt. Thank her for dumping him, and show her what had happened because of it. And even if Lizzie never bothered to watch her sister's videos, his speech made Lydia appreciate him that much more.

On second thought, he did want to know if Lizzie was watching. At Darcy's company. Yeah. She was probably sitting around and laughing with him about all the trouble they'd caused George and Lydia, the people they should have helped more than anyone else in the world. He checked out a few of her latest videos, but there was no mention of George, and only one or two references to Lydia. It figured. Lizzie didn't care. Darcy didn't care.

He was getting a little worried about Lydia. She was a lot quieter, a lot drabber lately, like she didn't care how she looked anymore. Maybe she wasn't as crazy about him as he thought. Maybe she wouldn't be able to go through with it. Maybe she was still feeling guilty about her stupid sister. Was she watching Lizzie's videos? He looked up the most recent one. And discovered that Gigi had joined the Let's-Hate-George-Wickham club.

What kind of a screwed-up version of the truth was this? Like he had plotted, twirling his mustache and cackling diabolically, to trick Gigi and take all her money. She'd never done anything against her will. She knew what she was doing. And she definitely knew what it meant when Darcy showed up. Anyone would have taken that check. What, was he some kind of monster for not wanting to be broke? When it was Darcy who'd made him broke in the first place?

He was still furious when Lydia came over see him, but he tried to keep it down. She hadn't seen the video with Gigi, obviously, and he planned to keep it that way. Keep just one person in his life who still believed him. But when she started stammering about talking to her sister – not even Lizzie, but Jane, the nice one! – and clearly worried that she wouldn't approve of George, he couldn't contain it.

Her reaction to his anger bothered him. She was so fragile, so needy, begging him not to go. Begging was nice every once in a while, but not like this. She was definitely siding with him over her sisters, and that was a relief, but the only way she could be soothed was with lots of gentle caresses and apologies and promises. It was getting kind of strangling. He couldn't be in one of those relationships where the guy just gave and gave and gave while the girl did all the taking. He needed something back. He needed to know he was more important to her than anyone else in her life. He'd had enough of being somebody's afterthought. Yeah, maybe the whole _if you told me to leave it would kill me_ routine was a little over the top, but it got him the reaction he needed. And now the date was set.

He'd given up on convincing her to make the video and sell it with him so they could split the money. She wasn't ready, and she might never be. She was way shyer than she pretended to be in public. If he could get her in the right mood, though, all his work would pay off one way or another.

At dinner that evening, he pulled out all the stops. Candlelight, the fanciest food he could afford, lots of gazing at her and saying he couldn't believe how lucky he was. After they finished eating, she took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. Her choice.

Everything almost fell apart when she didn't want the camera on. It took a lot of persuading, a lot of reminding her of all he'd done, every way he'd shown her how much she meant to him. The least she could do was return the favor. Finally, she agreed.

He lay there afterwards, the camera off, watching her sleep. He should get up and do something with that footage, but he couldn't seem to move. There was a thick, nasty taste rising in his throat like he was going to puke. What had just happened, anyway? It was like he was looking at a stranger. Like all the life had been sucked out of their relationship.

Maybe he shouldn't have –

Maybe things could have been different, if it hadn't been for Darcy. Or Lizzie. If George didn't have money problems, if Lydia hadn't been damaged so she went all weak and clingy just when things were getting good. Yeah, just like always. It all came back to Darcy; it always did. The sick feeling surged up into anger. Nothing good ever stayed in his life. He got out of bed in a fury, grabbed the camera and went off to claim his last remaining chance at what he deserved.


	5. The Double-Edged Sword

_Well, once again I'm kind of confused about what exactly Wickham and Darcy did regarding the website and the tape. Here's a guess, along with the conclusion of this tale of a delusional scumbag. Thanks for reading and responding! It's not like most of my other fics, where I know I've done well if it makes readers happy. (I would be seriously concerned if this fic made anyone happy.) But anyway, thanks for reading. Next time I'll post something pleasant and fluffy. :)_

He left Lydia a note. _Love ya, gotta see a friend about something, I'll call you when I'm back in town._

Other than that, he didn't know what to do about her. So he tried not to think about it at all.

Things were looking good for the website. Within a day of going up, it had already gotten tons of hits. He didn't have anything to do with the business side of things; that stuff was pulled together by the guys who worked with numbers and computer programming. He was just the supplier, and his job was done. They had given him a choice of either getting an immediate one-time payment or waiting for a share of the video's revenue. Of course he chose the second. Patience would definitely pay off in this case. He had only to sit back and wait for the money to pour in.

Probably better to wait someplace…secluded. Internet fame was a double-edged sword, and for all the people eager to fork over money to see that tape, there were still a few who might judge him for what he'd done. And he wasn't an idiot. He knew that if Darcy caught wind of this, he'd consider it his _moral imperative_ or some other snotty self-righteous phrase to find George and lecture him. Possibly with the help of an army of lawyers. _He_ knew he hadn't done anything wrong. He hadn't forced Lydia into anything against her will. She was the one who had pressed the button on the camera. But Darcy would find some way to twist the facts around and make it into a crime.

So George hopped from one location to another, eventually ending up in a series of motels in Orange County. He hated having to live this cheap, sleeping in dingy rooms, eating meals cobbled together from the shelves of convenience stores. Just give it a few more days, and he'd have all the money he needed to get out of here. Maybe leave the country entirely. He'd heard some good stuff about European girls.

He'd been getting a lot of voicemail and texts, but he didn't reply to anything unfamiliar. Too risky. Even his phone had to be one of those cheap kinds that couldn't be tracked. He'd had to change numbers after Lydia wouldn't stop texting him. It made him uncomfortable. She used to be so much fun. Now she was just a clingy mess, and he couldn't help her.

He didn't know what to think when Gigi texted him one morning. It was short, cryptic. It could mean anything. On the one hand, she was a Darcy. He had probably made her do it, using her like bait. Or maybe he didn't have to make her. She wasn't exactly his biggest fan anymore.

On the other hand, there was something really tempting about the thought of getting under Gigi's skin again – and getting under Darcy's skin into the bargain. He might be able to make someone see his side for once.

He let the text sit for a while. Another came, and another. A couple of days passed, and he still hadn't decided what to do when his phone rang. It was Gigi.

He hesitated, then let it go to voicemail.

It was a short message, as cryptic as her texts. He played it again, listening for any signs of anger or deceit. She sounded nervous, but otherwise he couldn't guess what she was playing at.

He looked at his phone, frowning. He remembered when her voice was the first thing he used to hear every morning, back when she still believed in him, when her whole world revolved around him.

He called her back.

It was good to hear her voice. He'd missed her, and he told her so. She didn't reply right away, but something buzzed in his ear. He pulled the phone away to find a notification on his screen. _Push for video_. Even better. It was harder for people to be mad at him when they were looking at his face. Did he accept the terms of service? Yeah, whatever. Suddenly a video of Gigi was filling his screen, with a thumbnail of his own face in the corner.

Pretty impressive. He had to give Darcy that. And she didn't seem happy at the mention of her brother. That was a good sign. Maybe she was already coming over to George's side.

Nope. The first thing she brought up was the website. Fine. She wanted to fight; he was up for that. If they were going to twist things around and condemn him, he could embellish the truth a little himself. He played the unwitting victim, the star-crossed lover. Was he any less genuine than Gigi, as she pretended to be full of outrage for some girl she'd never met? Everyone played roles. The real liars were the ones who pretended they were always honest.

But she wasn't buying it, and her angry response made him twitchy. Better end this before things got messy.

He was uneasy after that call, peeking out his window, then pulling the curtain back with a jerking motion….picking up his phone and dropping it like it had burned him….turning on the clunky TV and flipping channels restlessly without registering anything he saw. He fell asleep with his face smashed against the cracked sideboard of the bed and had a weird dream where Gigi beat him over the head with a checkbook. Then he woke up with a violent start. Someone was rapping on the door.

Still only half-conscious, he stumbled to his feet, opened the door and found himself facing Darcy.

It was always Darcy. George just couldn't win. Any protests or defenses he might have put up were silenced once Darcy started going on about legal teams and lack of consent. Yeah, he knew when he was beaten. Still, he wasn't about to let Darcy off without getting in a few barbs. He came charging in here like he was some noble knight, but nobody did something for nothing.

"So what are you getting out of all this?" George demanded while Darcy scoured his room, upending every container. He refused to believe there weren't any copies of the tape in here. "Is Pemberley looking to go into the porno business?"

Darcy didn't respond, instead dumping the contents of George's bag onto the bed. He sorted through every item with a look of open disgust, as if anything even associated with George was covered with slime.

"Come on. Are you really going to pour all that money into buying this company, simply out of the goodness of your heart? Give me a break." He scanned Darcy's impassive face, and it suddenly dawned on him. "This is about Lizzie, isn't it?"

Darcy stiffened, but he still didn't answer.

"You think you're going to go and tell her, _Hey, I rescued your baby sister from big bad Wickham, how about that?_ And then she'll be all yours. Convenient. Money saves the day again." He dared a step toward the bed, wanting to see Darcy angry, wanting a fight. "It just burns you up that I was with her first, doesn't it? You want to hear what she's like in bed?"

Still nothing. Man, Darcy just wasn't human.

"But never mind. This'll finally give you your victory. Double victory. You get to see me humiliated and broke – _again_ – and you get the key to Lizzie's panties."

Finally, finally, Darcy rounded on him. George tensed, ready to block his fist or whatever, but he wasn't quivering with rage at all. Nothing got through to this guy. He actually looked _sad_.

"Tell me, George," he said quietly. "Have you ever, in all your life, considered doing something not because you had anything to gain from it – but simply because it was the right thing to do?"

George snorted. "No one does that. Everyone's always out for something."

Darcy shook his head. "I'm sorry you believe that. Really, I am."

"I don't want your pity," George snapped.

"You have it nonetheless." He pulled out his phone with a crisp, robotic motion and examined the screen. "My legal team will be here in a few minutes. I assume we'll have your cooperation, considering the alternative?"

"Yeah, whatever."

Darcy paused, then said, "I know you won't believe this, but I thought I should tell you anyway – I was not happy to see our friendship dissolve."

Once the guy got started, he never shut up, did he? "Go to hell."

"I'm afraid you're already there. Of your own making."

What was that supposed to mean? George opened his mouth, but then there was a rap at the door, and Darcy went to let in a trio of grim-faced men in suits. He talked with them quietly for a moment, then turned and said, "Good-bye, George."

George tried to get in a last jab, but he couldn't think of anything. He just glared at Darcy as he left.

To the very end, Darcy had to make George feel like an idiot. Had to grab every dumb little victory.

Selfish bastard.


End file.
